Delilah Green Doesn't Care(Bright Falls #1)(39)

“No, no, it’s my fault,” she said. “She can stay with me.”

“Astrid,” Claire said. “You deserve a room to yourself.”

“So do you,” Astrid said.

“Well, I sure as shit deserve a room to myself,” Iris said, and Delilah nearly laughed. Honestly, in another life, she probably would have liked Iris a whole hell of a lot.

“Astrid,” Claire said, closing her hands around Astrid’s upper arms. “I don’t mind. And I insist. It’ll be great.”

“Yeah, Ass, it’ll be great,” Delilah said. She met her stepsister’s gaze and lifted a single brow, something she knew Astrid couldn’t do and wished she could. They stared at each other, Delilah’s little bet about getting Claire into bed hovering between them. Granted, this wasn’t exactly what Delilah meant, but it was a start. It was a damn great start.

Astrid closed her eyes briefly, and in that tiny space of time, Delilah knew she had won.

There was something else there too though. Something other than the satisfaction Delilah felt knowing Astrid was inwardly seething, and she was pretty sure it was excitement. Claire was fun, sweet, and sexy as hell. She was interesting. And Delilah couldn’t stop thinking about last night in the foyer at Wisteria House, that split second where Claire could’ve walked away with Astrid, leaving Delilah to deal with her demons all by herself, just like Delilah was used to doing.

Only she hadn’t.

Claire had turned back, brown eyes wide open and honest, and she’d waited for Delilah. She’d walked her through what could’ve been the worst moment of her trip back to Bright Falls, and turned it into a simple stride down a hall.

And for the first time since her father died, Delilah hadn’t felt alone in Wisteria House.





Chapter Eleven




CLAIRE HAD NO clue what she’d been thinking.

Well, Help Astrid. That was the spirit behind her whole share a bed with Delilah Green idea—keep her best friend from completely melting down during the one pre-wedding activity Claire and Iris were actually looking forward to. She’d seen it brewing, the freak-out, Astrid breathing like a bull facing a matador, and she knew how terrible Astrid must be feeling for leaving Delilah out.

What’s more, Claire saw Delilah’s disappointment. Or, not disappointment so much as . . . she wasn’t sure. But something had been behind Delilah’s eyes when it was clear what had happened. Her face remained expressionless, bored even, but her eyes had flickered, like a strong wind nearly snuffing a candle out before the flame reared back to life.

So, of course, offering to bunk up with Delilah seemed like the best course of action. Iris surely wasn’t going to do it, and if Delilah and Astrid shared a room, the trip would probably end in some sort of bloodshed.

Claire was the obvious choice.

But now, as the door shut behind the two of them in their room, a pang of nervousness shot through Claire’s belly.

“This is nice,” Delilah said, rolling her suitcase to the bed and flopping down on the crisp white linens, spreading out like a starfish.

“Um, yeah” was all Claire could seem to get out. In her flopping, Delilah’s black tank top had ridden up, revealing a stripe of smooth, pale skin. A belly button. Hip bones.

Claire turned away. Breathed. She set her own suitcase on an armchair in the corner and unzipped it, rummaging pointlessly through her clothes in an effort to do something, anything, other than watch Delilah snow-angel on the bed.

The room was nice. Dark hardwood floors, light gray walls with bright-toned artwork to offset all the neutral colors, a huge bed with a white duvet cover and sheets, blue accent pillows arranged just so. A wide window covered most of the back wall, and the view was incredible, all shimmery distant valleys and rows of juice-filled grapes rolling like green-leafed waves. And as Claire brought her toiletry bag into the bathroom, she walked into what was pretty much a mini spa with its sea-glass tile floors and huge glass shower, a dual vanity with white porcelain bowls and bronzed nickel fixtures.

She turned on the water in the far sink, running her fingers under the cool stream while she got her head on straight. The suite was ridiculously huge for one person, the bed like the state of Oregon itself. She and Delilah would hardly even notice each other.

Probably.

Maybe.

“Hey.”

Claire jumped as Delilah appeared behind her.

“Whoa, sorry,” Delilah said, dropping her own toiletry bag onto the marble counter. “You okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” Claire managed to smile at her, but then Delilah leaned on the counter and she had to look away.

“I guess we should get undressed, huh?”

Claire dropped the little pot of lip gloss she’d mindlessly opened, finger swirling through the shimmery pink just for something to do. It clattered into the sink with the water still flowing, soaking the gloss before Claire could snatch it back.

“What?” she asked, grabbing a fluffy hand towel and wiping the pot dry.

In the mirror, Delilah’s eyes flicked to the lip gloss and back to Claire. “Massages? Thirty minutes?” She brandished a creamy rectangle of paper that detailed the services Astrid had already arranged for them. This schedule, thankfully, did include Delilah.

“Oh,” Claire said. “Right.”